Blue Skies E-Book

Fleur McDonald

• Herausgeber: Allen & Unwin
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 383

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

In the tradition of Rachael Treasure and from the bestselling author of Red Dust, Blue Skies tells the inspirational story of a young woman battling to save the family farm no matter what it takes. Armed with an honours degree in Agribusiness, Amanda Greenfield dreams of employing all the skills she's learnt at college to help her father turn the family farm from a debt-ridden, run-down basket case into a thriving enterprise. Then tragedy strikes with the death of Amanda's mother in a car accident. Wracked by grief and guilt, and wearied by the long struggle to keep Kyleena a going concern, Amanda's father argues that they should sell up and get on with their lives away from the vagaries of drought and fluctuating stock and crop yields. Having inherited half the farm from her beloved mother, whom she also grieves for, Amanda determines to summon all her strength, grit and know how to save Kyleena. Along the way she faces mixed fortunes in both love and life...

Leseprobe

Fleur McDonald lives on a large farm east of Esperance in Western Australia, where she and her husband Anthony produce prime lambs and cattle, run an Angus cattle and White Suffolk stud and produce a small amount of crops. They have two children, Rochelle and Hayden. Fleur snatches time for her writing in between helping on the farm. Blue Skies is her second novel. www.fleurmcdonald.com

Also by Fleur McDonald

Red Dust

Author’s Note

Depression is rife in our community. I hope that the threads of information in Blue Skies may help someone get help or realise that a friend, partner, colleague or loved one needs help. There isn’t a stigma attached to this illness – it is just that, an illness.

The best thing about writing fiction is you can’t let the truth stand in the way of a good story! I have stuck to the facts as far as possible in my depiction of the pioneering days of Esperance. However, it is possible that there are some timing and geographical errors. These are for the sake of the pace and plot of the novel. Any other mistakes are purely my own.

This edition published in 2011

First published in 2010

Copyright © Fleur McDonald 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

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ISBN 978 1 74237 008 8

E-book ISBN 978 1 92557 578 1

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Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Bev Due and Ned Woodward, friends who suffered from breast cancer and both died before this book was finished.

To Anthony, Rochelle and Hayden – my world.

Carolyn, without whomBlue Skieswouldn’t have been started, let alone completed.

Acknowledgements

Blue Skies was a challenge for me to write. I started, stopped and started, came up against a brick wall, thought everything I was writing was rubbish, but I finally got my rhythm and kept going. My dearest girlfriend, Carolyn Middleton, was instrumental in keeping me on track, through endless phone calls, tough love and lunches. She also drew up a family tree for a family that didn’t exist! Cal, I love the fact you’re my mate!

Once again, to my mentor Jeff Toghill, your wisdom and emails have also kept me focused on the business of writing and Blue Skies wouldn’t have eventuated without you either.

To my wonderful husband Anthony and kids, Rochelle and Hayden, thank you for putting up with me when I’m in writing mode. I usually do make it through the washing in the end!

To the people who have helped me during the writing process:

Geoff Grewar, who supplied me with the ‘1917 Report on the Royal Commission on the Mallee Belt and Esperance Lands’ and a 1937 Agricultural Journal.

Don Voigt, who spent time in the Esperance museum with me, helping find the information I needed on the pioneering days. His book Old Esperance – pictorial history 1894–1947 was particularly helpful. It was wonderful see photos from earlier times and they helped give me a feel for that era.

Tom Riemers, who, with his wife Jean, is not only a surrogate grandparent to our children, but has a wealth of knowledge about pioneering times. (Although Tom did keep reminding me, that the time I was asking about, he was only two!)

Doctor David Swan from Swan’s Vet Services, who read pieces of the book for its authenticity, as well as Julia from Genstock, and Geoff Grewar, who did the same.

To my long-time friend Kate Biggins, who helped me with the paramedic knowledge.

To John Doyle, who was the winner of the That’s Life competition. I used his entry ‘Paringa’ as Adrian’s farm name. I would also like to thank everyone who entered.

Thanks to Mum, Dad, Nicholas, Ellie, Suz, Nathan, Mrs McDonald, Sharon and Ron, for your love, support and interest. I couldn’t do what I do without you all.

To Gill: books, good food and wine – what more could a friend need?

To my amazing mates, who have hearts bigger than the Australian outback: Amanda, Carolyn, Gill, Marie, Robyn, sister Suz, Tiff and Victoria (alphabetical order, girls!). Your help, whether it was babysitting, plot-thickening, reading the first draft, editing or just being there, is the reason this book has managed to make it this far. I couldn’t have done it without you.

To Mrs Mackay, you are always there and I can’t thank you enough. Thank you to the whole Mackay family for allowing Mr Mackay’s name to be used. He was so very precious, as you all are, to the Parnell family (and now the McDonalds). Thanks also for brainstorming for the ‘right’ word, around your dinner table, when I just can’t get it!

To Nyssa at Nixel Web Design, thanks for all your wonderful work.

Shelley, once again, thank you for spending your time to edit – it makes a difference.

To Ali Lavau, for editing Blue Skies. Thank you. I love learning from you and it’s only because of your input that Blue Skies became readable!

I have been so fortunate to meet three wonderful women: Louise Thurtell, Siobhán Cantrill and Kate Hyde, from Allen and Unwin, who have not only helped me in creating the best possible book, but who have become people whom I’m privileged to call friends.

Thanks be to God for giving me the gift of writing and for being my saviour.

Prologue

1940

The woman wept as if her heart would break, her long copper hair falling in curls over the side of her face and down her arms. She rocked backwards and forwards in her grief, her arms encircling her knees.

Their place had been here on the side of this stream. It was here they’d talked and laughed. In summer they had paddled in the cool water or swum in deep rock pools, and they’d spent many a sultry summer evening here lying next to each other, while the native bottlebrush trees swayed gently in the breeze.

During the winter months when good rains had fallen, turning the stream into a river, they had dreamed of their future, their lives together, the farm, and children. And it was at this place, in among the soft moss and wild orchids, that they had slipped away from their chaperone and he had finally claimed her as his own.

The woman had been grateful to have this hand- some, vibrant younger man fall in love with her. She’d believed she would be left on the shelf; she was not particularly beautiful or interesting. But his love had made her shine.

She didn’t understand his change of heart – surely he must be lying. But why? And what on earth did her future hold now?

Chapter 1

2000 – November

Brian took his eyes off the road for only a moment. But that was all it took. The steering wheel tilted towards the edge of the road, the gravel grabbed at the front tyres, and next thing he had completely lost control.

His wife’s screams and his moan of terror stopped abruptly as the airborne car hit the ground and skidded. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass echoed through the countryside, then everything was still, the only movement the spinning of a wheel and a broken aerial swinging from side to side. The occupants of the car were silent. Above them a crow cawed.

Amanda gazed down from a second-storey classroom at the people milling around the graduation hall, trying to spot her parents in the crowd. She could see her accounting professor and the dean of the university talking to her biology lecturer, amid beaming parents who were chatting to one another. She couldn’t believe this day had come at last. After all the arguments trying to convince her father she needed to get an agribusiness degree, after three years of hard work and part-time jobs, enduring the separation from her mum – not to mention the family farm, Kyleena – she had finally done it.

The dean had let it slip before the ceremony that she’d topped her class. Would that make her father proud? she wondered.

She smiled as she spotted Katie and Jo talking to their parents with the seriousness of newly graduated adults, looking nothing like the drunken, loud yobbos they could be when they weren’t studying.

Her eyes fell on Jonno with a familiar stab of longing. He looked so handsome in his suit and tie. She’d only ever seen him dressed so formally once before – at Cory McLeod’s funeral. She felt a pang of sadness thinking of her friend who hadn’t made it to graduation; he’d been killed in a car accident in the first year of their ag course. His death had been devastating to his friends.

Suddenly, the door in the room flew open, start- ling Amanda, who looked around to see Hannah coming into the room. Her friend looked so unlike her usual wild, straggly self as she rushed into the room, dressed in a black graduation robe and blue sash, her fly-away blonde hair swept up under her mortar board. ‘Why’re you hiding?’ she demanded, her eyes bright with excitement.

‘I’m not. I’m just watching everyone,’ said Amanda, turning back to the window.

Sensing Amanda’s sombre mood, Hannah moved over to the window and put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. ‘Are your parents here?’ she asked.

‘Of course! You don’t think Mum would miss it, do you? I haven’t seen them yet, but they’re always running late – they probably snuck in after the ceremony started and have run into one of Dad’s old mates,’ said Amanda smiling wryly to mask her concern.

‘Well come on then. You can look for them later, Miss Dux! Right now you’re needed for the class photos and drinks. That’s actually why I came to find you.’

‘And here I was thinking you cared,’ said Amanda with a smile. She followed Hannah out of the room, switching the light off behind her.

Arranging themselves in front of the camera, the class of 2000 smiled and called out ‘Bundy!’, while their families looked on proudly. Between shots, Amanda searched for her parents.

Forcing a smile, she was hardly aware of the camera clicking and whirring as more photos were taken of the whole class, then a series of the dux of agribusiness with the recipients of the three agricultural awards and their teachers. As the final shot was taken of her with the high achievers from the university’s other courses, Amanda caught sight of two policemen speaking with the dean. The look of shock on his face as his eyes searched the crowd told Amanda the story, and without thinking her feet carried her to them.

Hannah followed, motioning for Jonno to come with her. They were by Amanda’s side to hear the news and gather their weeping friend to them, the graduation celebrations forgotten.

Amanda sat next to her father in the church, her mother’s coffin resting on a gurney in front of them, her uncle speaking at the pulpit. Although cheerful flowers matched her mother’s vibrant personality, Amanda had to close her eyes against the pain she felt looking at them atop the coffin. She could hear her mother’s laughter, see her flashing eyes and feel her arms around her.

It wasn’t until she felt a touch on her arm that she realised the pallbearers were making their way out of the church and on to the cemetery. Consumed by her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard a word of the service. She walked by herself to the hearse, tears clouding her vision.

Her father’s rigid posture and continuing silence were unnerving. Struggling with his grief and guilt, he had locked himself away, leaving Amanda to cope with the funeral arrangements.

She felt like she had aged dramatically in the two weeks since the accident. She would never forget seeing her mother in the coffin, cold and unresponsive, her scars from the accident cleverly hidden. The lady at the funeral home had helped do her mother’s hair and makeup, but it was Amanda who had chosen her outfit and fastened the silver bracelet that had been a gift for her fortieth birthday on her lifeless wrist.

It was hard to believe that only two weeks before she had been so full of hope and optimism for the future.

Choking back a sob, she ran to her car and sped away.

Chapter 2

2001

Amanda swung the pick, which bounced off the manure that was packed solid under the shearing shed. Despite the cold wind, a thin film of sweat covered her brow and she pulled up the hem of her shirt to wipe it off. There was about fifteen years’ worth of compressed sheep dung and she’d scored the great job of digging it out. There was barely enough room to stand under the shed, let alone swing the pick.

She crawled out on her knees and tried to stand up, gasping in pain as her muscles screamed in protest. With blistered hands she hauled the full barrow out into the open, not seeing a big lump of manure before the barrow hit it, tipping on its side, its contents emptying onto the ground.

‘Bugger!’ Amanda shouted, unable to stop angry tears from spilling down her cheeks as she swept all the manure back into the barrow with her hands. She swiped at the tears, smearing dung over her cheeks, then pushed the laden barrow over to the front-end loader’s bucket, full now from her hours of work. Amanda jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the key, before backing carefully out of the sheep yards and heading towards the huge pile of manure that sat on the fenceline bordering the laneway. Hitting the levers that controlled the bucket, she emptied the load onto the mound, then slumped forward, resting her head on the steering wheel. Surely there was more to her life than shovelling shit.

It was now four months since she had to come back to Kyleena to help her dad. The death of her mum hadn’t changed her plans – she’d always wanted, yearned, to come back to the farm – but the homecoming hadn’t been anything like she’d imagined it would be. And her rural exchange plans, to England, were looking more appealing by the day.

Her father had withdrawn into himself, not talking except to issue instructions – and far from being interested in the innovative ideas his daughter had for Kyleena, he had been stubborn and resistant. Last night was a prime example.

After convincing her dad to let her into the office, Amanda had discovered that the computer lacked a security program. When Brian had walked in with a cup of tea for her and wanted to know how she was getting on, Amanda had asked how he stopped viruses getting onto his computer. It was so important to have security to protect the files; it was one of the first things they’d learned at uni, she had told him. His face had darkened and he’d slammed the mug down, sloshing the hot liquid onto the desk, and left the room. Later, Amanda realised that he’d probably thought she was questioning his office ability, implying that he was old and out of touch. She hadn’t meant that at all.

Today, she’d done nothing but think about how she could fix what she had broken. Amanda was sure that her dad wouldn’t let her near the office again, let alone contribute to any of the managerial decisions. So instead of utilising her knowledge of budgets and farm improvements, she was fixing rundown fences, drenching sheep and, today’s glorious job, shovelling sheep shit.

Although she loved her father, her mum had often had to act as mediator between them. Being alike in many ways, there had been occasions when they had locked horns, the worst being when Amanda had decided she wanted to go to ag college. Her father had loudly disagreed, much to her surprise, since he had attended the same college she was applying to. But he maintained that ag college was no place for a woman; the social culture was too rough for his daughter.

The two-way suddenly crackled to life.

‘On channel, Mandy?’ her dad’s gruff voice asked through the two-way speaker.

Sighing but not shifting her head, she felt for the two-way receiver and responded.

‘I’m in number one paddock and I’ve just checked the dam,’ he said. ‘It’s getting a bit low and there’s two dead sheep stuck in the mud on the edge. You’ll need to come and pull them out.’

‘Why don’t you do it, since you’re on the spot?’ she demanded, resentment sweeping away her caution. The answering silence stretched into minutes, and finally Amanda drove the front-end loader into the shed, collected a rope and climbed onto her four-wheel motorbike, still fuming as she sped off.

Riding through the open gate into the paddock, Amanda saw her father sitting on the edge of the dam staring at the dead sheep. She could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. Her gaze shifted to the dead ewes. As far as she could see, he hadn’t even tried to pull the sheep out of the mud himself.

As she approached, he stood up and came towards the bike. Levelling his face with hers, he looked her in the eye. ‘Don’t ever question my instructions on the two-way again! The rest of the district doesn’t need to know what’s going on at our place. You do as I say and no backchat, understand?’ he hissed.

Amanda folded her arms, her face set. ‘Dad, it would have been quicker for you to pull them out than for me to leave what I was doing and come out here. Time efficiency is important on a farm. What I’ve just done isn’t efficient. Time costs money. It’s not that hard a job. Not pleasant, granted, but not hard.’

Brian acted as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Understand?’ he repeated.

‘Yes, Dad,’ she answered sullenly.

As she uncoiled the rope and tied it onto the back carrier, she heard her father walking towards his ute, the gravel crunching underfoot. As he closed the driver’s door, she lifted her head to look at him, and said, ‘Sorry about last night, Dad.’

There was a brief pause as he processed what she had said but then, without speaking, he turned the key in the ignition and drove away.

Staring at the carcasses, tears once again threatening, Amanda suddenly understood that his silence and these sheep were punishment for the night before. And she could see the blame in his eyes every time he looked at her – he thought she’d caused her mother’s death! As if she didn’t feel enough guilt without him heaping it on her. They had been on the way to her graduation after all.

Oh, she understood that he was grieving – she was too. But to survive, they had to move on. She knew when she lectured her stony-faced father, he saw her as cold and heartless. If only he could see inside her, see her own overwhelming sadness, then perhaps he would understand that she was trying to cope in her own way by focusing on Kyleena, on their future. But her father wasn’t interested in understanding her it seemed.

Ah well, she needed to get the animals out of the dam before they contaminated the water any further. Fixing the rope around one of the dead sheep’s legs, she rode slowly away, dragging the animal behind the bike. She steered towards a cluster of trees which would become the ewe’s final resting place. Breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench, she unhooked the rope and rode back to the dam to remove the other dead animal.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Amanda made her way back to the house. She knew her father would be in his office, listening to the radio and drinking beer. Avoiding her.

As a child, the house had been bright and cheerful, full of laughter and fun. Her mother, Helena, had been a wonderful cook and gardener, as well as working alongside her father and keeping up with her original profession, journalism, by writing an occasional article for the rural papers. Since her death, the garden had grown wild and the house had lost its cosiness. It seemed to understand the occupants were slowly self-destructing.

Pushing open the door of her mother’s study, Amanda was hit by the smell. Finally the room smelled fresh and clean. It was like someone loved it again. When Amanda had first summonsed the courage to open the door, not long after the accident, it had still smelled like her mum. The moisturiser she used, her shampoo and soap. The book she was reading had been on the coffee table and the latest editorial she’d been working on sat unfinished on her desk.

The fragrance had faded over the months and when it had started to smell musty and rank Amanda knew she had to do something. She couldn’t bear leaving her mother’s favourite room to become unloved, so two weeks ago she had moved her computer onto the desk and claimed the area for her own. Her father had watched grimly as she had flung open the curtains, brushed the dust away and set a vase of her Mum’s favourite lavender on the table. He wouldn’t set foot over the threshold, arguing that it was Helena’s space and should be left the way it was.

Amanda hadn’t heeded his wishes, and tonight she opened the window and sat on the soft couch where her mother used to curl up and read on rainy days with her feet tucked up under her, her long, dark, wavy hair tumbling over the couch’s arm.

There was a photo on the desk showing Helena, Brian and a young Amanda in the garden. Amanda could just recall the day it was taken. The drought-breaking rains arrived from nowhere. A fierce storm had swept through, cooling the sweltering day, but it hadn’t fazed her mum, who was clothed in a thin cotton dress. She had danced in the rain, her arms outstretched and face turned towards the heavens as she laughed with joy, with hope. Her dad had run from the shed and taken his wife in his arms and together they’d delighted in the downpour, while their only child had watched from the verandah in wonder.

Fifty-three was too young to die, thought Amanda, tears springing to her eyes. And twenty-two was too young to lose your mum. She buried her head in the cushion, hoping to catch a hint of the fading essence of her mother.

Later that night, Amanda woke from a restless sleep, thirsty. Stumbling out to the kitchen to get a drink of water, she was alarmed by odd noises coming from her dad’s room. She made for the door, but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of gut-wrenching sobs and muttered words. Quietly pushing the door open a crack, she peered in. Standing at the foot of the bed with his back to her was her dad, his shoulders heaving with sobs. He held a photograph of Helena, the silver frame reflecting in the moonlight that filtered through the open curtain.

‘Why, Helena, why? How could this happen after everything we’ve been through? After all we did to stay together? How could you leave me now?’

Chapter 3

A chill cut through the air early in the evening; winter was setting in. Amanda once again retreated to the study to work on the Kyleena production plan that she’d been formulating since coming home. Whenever she had time between finishing her work and returning to the house in the evening Amanda had been slowly rediscovering Kyleena.

In the past six months she’d driven every fence line and walked over every acre of land. She’d checked which dam catchments needed grading so there’d be sufficient water storage throughout the summer, which paddocks needed new fences or pasture renovation and what stock there was. She had ideas about new management strategies that would help increase income but how to get her dad to listen to her was an unanswered question.

Most nights she entered all the notes she’d made onto her computer in order to compile a farm business plan. Even if her father refused to look at it, it was something Amanda had wanted to do ever since she first returned from college. At first she’d updated it and changed it as she learned more about the farm; it had kept her skills fresh and given her work a purpose. But as time passed, her enthusiasm was eroding. She was losing hope.

Looking beyond the computer screen her eyes fell on the dead grass that used to be a lawn. Her mum would’ve been so disappointed to see the garden the way it was now. Jumping up, Amanda went into the garden and looked around. What could she do to make this place look like a home? Did she even want to? Would that make the niggling feeling of wanting to leave and not come back go away? Maybe.

The only things flowering were some red geraniums and a couple of lavender plants. Amanda kneeled down next to the flowerbed and started tugging at weeds that were knee high. After ten minutes she leaned back to survey her work. She’d only managed to clear a patch about a metre wide. Shaking her head at the futility of it all and feeling the need to escape, she jumped up, dusted off her jeans, grabbed her keys and headed over to the old Volkswagen beetle that she’d bought before going to college. She might as well go into town and check her post office box.

Smiling at the familiar VW engine noise, she remembered Hannah and Jonno laughing at her car the first day she had pulled up in the college car park. They had been standing admiring a new ute when Amanda crawled past, trying to find a park amid all the V8s covered in aerials, stickers and shiny hubs. She’d looked at Jonno – his long muscly frame and blond hair – and thought he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen. Finding a space, she parked and climbed out, smiling shyly at them.

Jonno had wolf-whistled and started walking over, with Hannah following behind. Amanda, thinking he was whistling at her, blushed when she realised he was intent on her car instead.

‘Hey, hey, we’ve got a seventies babe here, Han,’ Jonno had said, running his hand over the roof.

Amanda had taken a deep breath and stood up with fire in her eyes. ‘Got a problem with that?’ she asked, eyeing Jonno’s tall frame, dark eyes and handsome tanned face.

‘Nah, mate, excellent car. Add a few peace signs and it’ll be perfect. Love the colour. Purple. Did you paint it yourself?’ He grinned at her. Behind him, Hannah rolled her eyes, while making circles with her fingers to indicate Jonno was a bit barmy.

‘Uh-huh,’ Amanda said. ‘And which classy ride might yours be?’

‘Ah, well, if you want to see a ute that will win all the beaut ute comps around Western Australia, madam, come this way,’ he said, sweeping his arm towards the shiny black Holden ute they’d been admiring earlier. The tailgate and back window were covered in stickers and the bullbar was spray-painted a bright pink.

Amanda raised her eyebrows when she saw it – to think he had the balls to bag her car!

‘Is this thing alive?’ she grinned, gesturing at the bullbar. Hannah’s smothered laugh followed her as Amanda made a big deal of approaching with caution, musing, ‘Mm, a couple of fluorescent green stripes here and a bright pink flower on the bonnet, in keeping with that bullbar . . .’ She straightened up and looked Jonno in the eye. ‘What do you think?’

Hannah and Jonno had both laughed before Jonno leaned towards Amanda and whispered conspira- torially, ‘You know what’s worse? I have to share it with her,’ jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Hannah. ‘She’s the reason I have a pink bullbar on my ute.’

‘Yeah,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s a bastard having to share with your brother, hey?’

‘You’re brother and sister?’ Amanda asked, amazed and delighted, they didn’t look anything alike.

‘We’re twins actually,’ Hannah said, and stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Hannah Mardey and this is Jonno.’

From that first handshake with Jonno, Amanda’s insides had curled with desire; she’d wanted to grab him and hang on. But she and Hannah had quickly become best friends and soon after Amanda had decided she couldn’t make a play for her closest friend’s twin brother. She couldn’t stuff up a great relationship. She was also at college to learn and make the most of her opportunity. That didn’t involve having a distraction – no matter how much she desired him.

Amanda sighed as she slowed on the outskirts of Esperance. She should phone Hannah and have a debrief while she was out. That would cheer her up.

Brian opened another beer and watched the tail-lights of Amanda’s car until she hit the end of the drive and flicked her blinker on. He knew he was being harsh towards her, refusing to listen to her thoughts and ideas, but Helena’s death had robbed him of his interest in life. He didn’t want to hear any of Amanda’s plans. He didn’t want to farm. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to live.

He covered his face with his hands as that awful day replayed itself in his mind, yet again . . .

Brian and Helena had left Kyleena early the morning of Amanda’s graduation, Helena filling a thermos with coffee and making sandwiches for the seven-hour journey. Most of the trip had been spent discussing how they were going to save Kyleena from bankruptcy. Helena had been saying she didn’t think they could afford Amanda’s wages when Brian had suddenly felt so tired and weighed down that he didn’t think he could drive anymore.

He’d gently covered his wife’s mouth with his hand to silence her. Her eyes had been startled at first but he watched as mischief flickered through them and she licked his hand. He’d grinned, thinking how lucky he was to have such a wife and regretfully took his hand away. He’d asked for a cup of coffee from the thermos and she’d undone her seatbelt to reach into the back. He’d watched the curve of her behind as she’d leaned over the back seat and then reached up to smack her bum. He couldn’t remember anything more. Until he had woken up in hospital. Until the doctor had told him Helena was dead.

Brian held his clenched fist to his mouth. If only he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. If only Amanda had listened to him and not gone to college, they’d never have been on the road that day. If only . . .

Brian went to his filing cabinet and pulled out the mail that had been accumulating there for the last three months. He flicked through it, leaving the myriad bills and letters from the bank unopened. He’d had six letters in the past three months. Then there were the phone messages that the bank manager, Malcolm Mackay, had been leaving. Brian no longer answered the phone, letting all calls go through to the answering machine. And when it was something he couldn’t do anything about, he just deleted the message. He knew he couldn’t go on like this for much longer; the question was how to find the energy to make a decision. With Helena by his side, he could’ve worked out a plan, but now he just didn’t care anymore.

Heaving himself up from the desk, he moved over to the photo on the wall. His mother and father smiled at him and Brian wondered, not for the first time, what they would make of his life now. No wife, nearly bankrupt, with a daughter he had to keep at arm’s length because she kept pushing him, not knowing when to stop.

He knew that Amanda was champing at the bit to take over the farm, but it wasn’t that simple. He was of a generation that had had it instilled that it was the son who managed the farm. He had just about worked through all those feelings, with Helena’s help, when she was killed. Resentment and anger had brought them back. And then there was the fact that she thought she knew everything because she’d had three years of book learning! But where was the practical experience she needed? You couldn’t run a farm without that. Six thousand acres equated to a lot of sheep, cattle and cropping and all of that needed understanding to keep things running well. Even though he loved his daughter, Amanda hadn’t spent enough time at Kyleena to have gained the necessary experience. He knew Helena would have wanted him to encourage Amanda – Helena herself had had some very progressive ideas – but he just didn’t have the energy. It took all the strength he had just to get up every morning and face the day.

Rising, he gathered up the letters from the bank and hid them back in his filing cabinet. Then he locked the door of the office and went into the kitchen to see what Amanda had left him for tea.

Amanda looked at the envelope in her hand. She was pleased she’d come to town. Sitting on the hill just out of Esperance, where she could get mobile reception, she’d spoken with Hannah for half an hour. They’d caught up on all the gossip of college friends, discussed the pros and cons of Hannah’s job as a grain marketer, and talked about Amanda’s arguments with her father and her plans for Kyleena. Hearing her friend’s voice had made the day seem bearable, and she’d been in a much more cheerful frame of mind when she pulled up at the post office to collect her mail.

As well as the usual assortment of farming magazines and junk mail, there was a postcard from Katie, who was now on an agricultural exchange in Ireland and a thick, creamy envelope with a gold emblem on the top left-hand corner bearing a solicitor’s name. Her name was typed in bold black ink and above it, in red were the words Private & confidential. Tearing open the envelope she began to read, her eyes widening. Then she began to cry. Her mother had bequeathed Amanda her half of Kyleena.

Chapter 4

1934

Twenty-year-old Michael Greenfield swung out of his Dodge truck and landed with a soft thump on the ground. A puff of dust rose around his ankles and he brushed away the small bush flies that clustered around his eyes.

Standing stock-still, he listened. He’d been told there was a river running through this piece of land and he would find it by listening and then following the sound. This was where he would set up camp. But he heard nothing, except unfamiliar birdcalls. He glanced around at the low scrubby bush, which was also foreign, and took a couple of tentative steps. The land was covered with trees and small scrubby bushes – he was still to learn all the names – yet it was easy to walk through and the richness of the soil was plain to see. Yes, the potential was there.

To admit he felt apprehensive would be to admit weakness, but the mixed emotions of excitement, awe and anxiety gave way to a certain trepidation; his adviser had warned him of the harshness of the environment.

As he walked through the bush, stopping once in a while to listen for the river, he kept an eye open for Y-shaped branches and a long straight one. These would hold up the canvas for his humpy.

Stumbling over a tree root, he gasped as a long, thin black snake with a yellow belly reared up, its head flattened, ready to strike. Michael froze. A new-found friend had boasted that there was at least one snake to every acre in Esperance, a fact Michael hadn’t been pleased to hear. After what seemed like hours, the snake backed down and slithered on its way. His first lesson.

As his breathing and heart rate slowed, he finally heard the trickling water. Glancing around to be certain the snake had gone, he walked towards the noise.

Time had passed quickly since Michael had come ashore after landing at the docks in Esperance. He had been met by a Mr Frank O’Connor from the Agricultural Bank, as his father had promised, and this gentleman had proved to be most obliging. Mr O’Connor had not only provided all the supplies and equipment he would need over the coming months, he had introduced him to many other settlers. If he knew why Michael had left England, he gave no indication.

Michael’s flatbed Dodge was loaded with tea, flour and sugar, all in fifty-pound bags, two axes, saws and a wedge, along with a file to sharpen them. There was a canvas for his shelter, a wagga and palliasse – Michael had realised as Mr O’Connor listed what was on the back of the truck that it wasn’t just the names of the flora and fauna he needed to learn, there was a whole new language.

He had been told a drover would arrive with his livestock in the coming days. The sheep, cattle, pigs and chooks would provide meat, milk and eggs, and Mr O’Connor had even thought to find him a good dog, not only for work but for company.

After a week in Esperance, learning from the other settlers and Mr O’Connor, Michael had reluctantly left the homely setting of his boarding house room, the beer house and company to start his new life in the wilderness, far from his family and the comforts to which he was accustomed. He had even begun to miss England – but no, he would not think about home. He had come to forget misdemeanours caused by others and forge a new life for himself. He would not allow himself to have regrets.

He found a forked branch and, with unpractised hands, started to saw. To build his new home and what he hoped would be his empire.

Chapter 5

Amanda crouched down under the tractor, unscrewed the oil plug and watched as the thick, black oil poured from the hole. It didn’t look like it’d been changed in years! She shook her head, knowing that her father was perfectly capable of this job, but insisted on having a mechanic do it. Well, it was obvious the mechanic hadn’t been doing his job. She tucked the spanner under her arm and wiped her oily hands on a rag, thinking about her father.

At this moment, she’d take a bet that he was in the house changing from his work clothes into a fresh set. She didn’t know where he was going this time, but he was spending more and more time off the farm. And whenever he was home, he seemed lost in thought or locked in his office.

As the last few drips fell from the oil well, she thought about how lost in grief he was, but if she was able to continue on, surely he could too.

The click of boots on gravel sounded behind her and she turned and saw him appear around the corner of the shed.

‘You there Mandy,’ he called.

‘Yeah,’ she said walking out. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as she saw his frame stiffen.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he said, nodding towards the oily rag in her hand.

‘Changing the oil in the tractor. It doesn’t look like it’s been done for years!’

‘The mechanic looks after the tractor.’

‘I know, but there was a filter and enough oil here and I thought I’d save us some money. Plus, it’s not like there’s much happening today.’

‘Well that’s about to change. You need to go out to Karru paddock quick smart and get the sheep in. I’ve organised Natty and the shearers to come and crutch tomorrow,’ he said brusquely before turning to leave. ‘I won’t be back ’til late. Got a pastures field day on down at the research station.’

Amanda didn’t even realise she was holding her breath until she heard his ute start up. Fuming, she threw the spanner viciously on the floor. Who did he think he was, issuing orders like she was a workman?

Amanda opened the paddock gate and swung it against the fence so the sheep could walk through. As she rode towards the ewes, she started to assess them, then let out a snort of disgust. Dags as big as fists hung from their hindquarters and she could see where the ewes had been tearing at their wool. Bloody lice. She would have to say something to her dad when he returned tonight. See if she could convince him to buy some long-wool lice treatment. At least he’d tried to beat the problem of flies by crutching early but the shearers would have a fit when they saw the rear ends of those sheep.

The lambs that stayed close to their mothers were obviously from different lambings. Some looked to be four months old, while others were newborns; all were unmarked. In the ideal lambing, ewes would be mated for six or eight weeks, so that all the lambs could be marked and then weaned at the same time, rather than end up with a higgledy-piggledy mess. As well as crutching tomorrow, she would have to try to mark the lambs.

A feeling of claustrophobia hit Amanda so strongly that she had to stop the bike. Did she really want to go on with this? Her father had always been a good farmer and the mess that was in front of her wasn’t his way of running a farm. It was almost as if he’d given up. She couldn’t understand why he would – he still had to do something since her mother had died; why let Kyleena get so rundown while he grieved only to have to build it back up again?

Amanda had done a lot of thinking about the inheritance her mother had left her. The half-share in Kyleena gave her a lot more say in the decision making than she had ever thought possible. Maybe it was the way to give her dad some space. Help him find his feet again. If she could get him to agree to some of her ideas, or at least give her some slack to run things the way she wanted to, maybe if the hard yakka was taken out of his hands, he’d want to start farming again. And she might want to stay. Hope filled her as she started the bike again.

As the sheep slowly made their way into the yards, Amanda noticed her dad’s ute parked at the end of the driveway. She would have thought he was long gone by now. As she watched, a white sedan appeared at the front gate and parked next to the ute. Brian materialised and shook the hand of the older man, who was dressed in a suit and a tie. After some discussion, the man opened the door of his car, pulled out a briefcase, put some papers on the bonnet and handed Brian what seemed to be a pen. It looked like her father signed some documents, passed them back and held his hand out to the man. Then Brian climbed into his ute and headed down the drive. Meanwhile, the other man got into his sedan and drove towards the shed and sheep yards. Amanda revved her bike to finish getting the sheep into the yards, chained the gate and walked out into the open so the man had no choice but to stop and talk to her.

‘Hi, can I help you?’ she asked as the car slowed and the window was wound down.

‘No thanks. I caught up with Brian and I’m just on my way now. Can’t turn around in that narrow drive of yours, which is why I’ve come up to the sheds,’ he said, smiling at her as he put his hand out the window. ‘I’m Malcolm Mackay, manager of the Western Bank.’

‘Amanda Greenfield,’ said Amanda, shaking his hand.

‘Ah, you must be Brian’s daughter? I can’t believe we’ve never met in all the time that I’ve been working with your parents. Then again, you went to boarding school and then on to college. I must say, I’ve heard so many glowing reports about you from your father.’

‘Have you?’ said Amanda, incredulous.